I have one of the strangest super powers imaginable. My power is to turn the most highly intelligent, ugly, uptight, prudish woman into a gorgeous but stupid, slutty sex-crazed bimbo. My power only works on a very narrow spectrum of women. In order to be susceptible to my power, a woman must be in her twenties, must have a super high IQ, must be homely, and must be highly repressed sexually. I have no power over women younger than 20 or older than 29, nor do I have any power over women of normal or sub-normal intelligence. I have no influence over brilliant women in their twenties if they are good looking or if they are sexually active. Let me explain how it works.
I discovered my power when I was struggling with calculus as an undergraduate. I needed tutoring or I risked flunking out. I went to see Edith, a woman who the Math Department offered as a tutor. She was a mathematician who was working as a math tutor to make ends meet while finishing up her PhD. When Edith opened her door to greet me, I was disappointed to see that I would be stuck with a mousy, buck-toothed nerd with a bad complexion. She was wearing a completely nondescript, grey, baggy sweater and a woolen skirt that hung mid-calf. I couldn’t see anything in the way of a figure, but guessed that the baggy clothes hid a skinny body with no curves whatsoever. Ugh, calculus was already a miserable drag, and my tutor looked sure to make the experience of passing my calculus class even more dreadful.
She led me into her apartment. She shuffled when she walked and her shoulders were hunched. I could see that she was not much older than me, maybe in her mid-20s, but she looked like an old lady the way she shuffled along with stooped shoulders. We spread papers on her kitchen table and got right down to work. We started with a review of trigonometry. I was so concentrated on a problem that I didn’t realize when my arm bumped hers, but as soon as it did, I felt a huge rush of energy and could almost feel my IQ go up a few points. I could also see our brief touch had an immediate affect on Edith. She caught her breath and I could see her face flush red.
This is weird, I thought, but went right back to the math problem. What had been a difficult problem moments ago, suddenly seemed easy and I solved it as though it was simple algebra. We continued working, but I was curious, and after about 15 minutes, brushed my arm against Edith’s again. This time, she gasped. She pulled back, fumbled with her glasses, put her hand to her neck, which I could see was flushed a hot pink. The contact again made me feel not only smarter, but stronger and more confident as well.
Edit looked at me with confusion. I could see fear in her eyes, but I also couldn’t help but notice that she licked her lips, and was having trouble breathing normally. If I didn’t know better, I thought, she was showing signs of sexual arousal.
She got up and fixed us both cups of tea. I watched her as she nervously prepared the drinks. I could she that she was thrown outside her comfort zone and did not know what was happening. I saw her hand shaking as she tried to hand me the full, hot tea cup. I reached over to take her wrist to steady her hand and keep her from spilling the hot tea. It was a perfectly normal thing for me to have done, but rather than a slight brush of our arms through clothing, this was a skin-on-skin grasp. Rather than steady her, my helpful hand had just the opposite effect. She dropped the tea cup, which hit the floor, shattering glass and splashing hot tea, some of which hit her leg.
She let out a little shriek and started hopping in pain. I jumped up to try to help her and to keep her from falling. I put my arm around her shoulder. As soon as I did so, she nearly swooned. Her knees buckled under her and I had no choice but to sweep her up in my arms. Holding her, as I saw her go limp I felt a surge of power and strength go through my body. What really caught my attention, however, was her face. As I looked at her face, I could see the pimply complexion clear up and her skin become perfect, her lips went from thin, pursed colorless lines to being plump, juicy and red. She looked up at me with glassy eyes. She brought up her hand and touched my face. It was as though she was seeing me for the first time. When her hand touched me, I felt a spark of sexual desire course through my body. From the way her body arched in my arms, I could see she was having the same experience.
I carried Edith into her bedroom. I laid her on her bed and sat next to her, still maintaining contact, my hand resting on her hip after I laid her down. “Are you okay?” I asked.
‘Wh-wh-what’s happening to me? Everything looks so blurry.” She took off her glasses. “I, I, I don’t believe it. I can see perfectly clearly without my glasses. How could that be? I’m blind as a bat without them and now I can’t see with them.”
“What color are your eyes?” I asked.
“Grey”
“They’re crystal blue now.” I told her to stay put and went into her bathroom to get a mirror. I positioned it so she could look at herself.
“My eyes… My skin… My lips.” She gazed at herself in the mirror trying to register the face staring back at her.
“How do you feel when I touch you?”
“Electricity. No, more than that. Radiation. I feel myself being transformed. I’ve never felt this way before. How is this possible?”
“How does my touch make you feel about me?”
“Desire. Excitement. Hunger.”
I felt the same way. I was feeling acute, bursting intelligence, but also a high erotic charge and a great feeling of attraction to and power over Edith. I felt though out-of-control, as though this was happening TO me, not something that I actually controlled.
But I wanted to explore these feelings further, no, not just wanted to, I felt compelled to dive further. I was not capable of stopping this any more than Edith was.
I held her tighter. She looked into my eyes and smiled. She was filled with pleasure. This was good, welcome. I leaned over her. We gazed in each others’ eyes and the desire built between us. I closed the gap, my lips touching her. The intensity was off the charts. She brought her hand to the nape of my neck and pulled me closer. Her mouth glued to mine, her tongue exploring my mouth, eagerly, hungrily, her desire palpable. And then my tongue became the aggressor, deeply penetrating her mouth. As we kissed, her hands grasped me as though she couldn’t hold me tight enough, as though she was afraid of losing me for a second, as though her life depended on me.
I broke the kiss. I touched her lips. She parted them. I looked at her crooked, ugly buck teeth. What would happen if I touched them? I snaked my index finger from the top of her lip underneath and ran it along her gum and row of teeth. As I did so, it was like I was performing a miracle of orthodontics, I could see her teeth straightening under my touch, fitting perfectly in her mouth, and glistening with a new white, fresh brightness.
I reached and touched her hair which moments before fell limp and stringy to her shoulder. I could feel her hair grow thick, supple, silky under my touch. Her head lolled and her wavy hair now cascaded, swishing as she moved.
I leaned back and looked in her eyes. Her face, faintly recognizable as that of the spinster who had opened the door, was now utterly transformed, beautiful. I then put my hands on either side of her head and felt an enormous, powerful surge of energy up my arms and flooding into my brain. My mind went into hyper-drive, feeling as though I was entering a higher level of consciousness.
But as I looked into Edith’s blue eyes, I saw them become vacant, I could almost see and feel the intelligence draining from her brain, as she gasped, drunkenly, losing control.
“Oooooh, ooooh. I’m, oh, my. Oh, you, so big, handsome, me pretty. Girl”
She was babbling, incoherent.
“Me…., so hot.”
I slipped her sweater over her head. I pulled her up and unhooked her bra and threw it aside. Her small, pancake breasts were pathetic. I put a hand on each breast and began squeezing and massaging. Edith groaned, her eyes fluttered, she arched her back, and, yes, her breasts were growing by the second as I squeezed. They took shape, full, ripe, firm. I got her up to a B cup, nice and perky, but I felt compelled to keep going, so I massaged more and her breasts now filled my hands with a good solid C, but my desire was for more, a desire that was mutual as Edith was in a swoon state, totally enraptured by the erotic sensations of her rapidly enlarging breasts. I squeezed and tugged, deeply massaging her tits, willing them to grow under my touch. And grow they did becoming D cups on Edith’s still slender frame. They were not saggy, natural looking hangers, but had that firm, silicone slut look, jutting from her chest. My fingers pulled on her nipples, and they became erect under my touch.
Her chest was flushed, she was panting, her chest heaved up and down.
“Do you like it, baby?”
I could see the craving in her eyes, intoxicated with lust. She pulled my shirt apart snapping the buttons, ripped off my undershirt, and then dove for my belt buckle. She fumbled with it a bit, but then yanked my pants down, shucking them down my legs, getting stuck for a second on my shoes, until she untied and pulled them off my feet. and there I was stark naked with one hell of an erection.
Edith fell to her knees, took my cock like it was a desirous object of worship and started sucking and licking like a pro. She swirled her tongue around the head and then sucked me deeply, her hands, suddenly with long fingernails, clawing my lower back, ass, and thighs. I held her head in my hands and shoved and pulled as I thrust my cock in her mouth. She made grunting, gasping and slurping sounds as her mouth filled with cock. She gazed up at me with her beautiful blue eyes as she sucked. I looked down into her eyes. “Such a pretty slut.”
“Stand up, baby.” She extracted her mouth from my cock and rose to her feet. I sat on the bed. “Do you like your new tits?”
“Ooooh, yes.” Edith started squeezing her tits, playing with them, filling her hands with her new meaty mounds.
“Take off your dress.” She unzipped her dress, let if fall, and stepped out of it. She was now down to her white, cotton panties. “Take off your panties, too.” She complied, standing naked in front of me. She had the bushiest snatch I had ever seen. I stood up. “Come here.” She walked to me. I cupped my hand over her mons Venus. My desire was to have her bare, no trace of hair, and under my hand her pubic hair dissolved away. I gently rubbed, and as I did so the hair disappeared, just evaporated under my touch. She rubbed her mons against my hand trying to achieve more pressure from my hand on her achingly horny pussy.
Not only was I changing Edith by the second, but I was getting incredibly charged up myself. My cock was getting harder and bigger than ever before, my energy level was bursting, I felt athletic, intelligent, sexy, powerful.
We were standing naked, face to face. One of my hands was glued to her pussy, my middle finger now probing her warm wet slit. My other hand moved to the small of her back, pulling her close. Our mouths locked. Our kiss was long, desperate, intense. We sucked tongues back and forth, hungrily devouring each others’ mouth, blissfully lost in the sensuality. One of her hands gripped my cock, the other my ass. We were dancing without music, our bodies in rhythm, our kiss never-ending. Our mouths still locked together, I lifted her, she wrapped her legs around me, and I impaled her with my rock hard cock, fitting into the tight warmth of her pussy, my hands filled with the globes of a voluptuous round ass that a short time ago had been scrawny, skinny, dry.
In a matter of minutes, Edith had been transformed from a mousy, uptight nerd into a wanton, gorgeous sex-crazed slut. She bucked and bounced, doing everything in her power to maximize both of our sexual pleasures. She was totally driven by her overwhelming sexual desire and need for fulfillment.
I brought my mouth to hers. Her lips opened and my tongue penetrated, seeking, probing. We finally fell onto the bed where I pressed her down, my hands now massaging her breasts, my body parting her legs. She pulled me to her. My cock felt like it was being sucked into her pussy. It was so tight, so good. Her need was desperate as though her existence depended on reaching orgasm. Her legs wrapped around me, her long nails dug into me, her hot breath steamed into my ears with her moans. I pounded her with hard strokes of my engorged cock as I thrust and thrust and thrust into her center. I felt like I was completely filling the expression “fucking her brains out,” as Edith seemed animal-like in her lust, completely absent of rational,cognitive functioning, possessed by pure impulse. She came with wild abandon, her moans turning into screams of pleasure. We fell deeply asleep tangled in each others’ arms and legs.
When I woke up morning sunlight was streaming in the window, and I looked at Edith in amazement. She was barely recognizable as the math tutor who had tried to tutor me the night before. I was looking at someone who could easily have qualified for a Playboy centerfold shoot. Big breasts, gorgeous face, sleek, perfectly toned abs, a bald, sexy pussy, and long, spectacular legs.
I wasn’t as dramatically physically or mentally transformed as Edith, but I also felt changed. I felt both more muscular and more energized, definitely with a stronger libido than a day ago, and a clarity of mind that told me I had had a significant bump in my IQ. I also felt a desire to control Edith, to make her do my bidding that was not my normal, respectful, even shy approach toward women.
As I gazed at her, I started getting aroused again. I began stroking her hair, then tracing my fingers along her beautiful sleeping face, and before long I was again feeling her engorged breasts. She began moaning, and before long her eyes fluttered open.
“Welcome to the first day of the rest of your life,” I said.
“I… I… I don’t know who I am anymore.”
The words coming out of my mouth felt like they originated from somewhere that did not come from within me, but they were my words: “It’s not who you are, Edith. It’s what you are. You are a bimbo slut. You are my bimbo slut.”
She looked up at me with her cow-like blue eyes. “Yes, that’s what I am. I’m a bimbo slut.”
“You’re not any bimbo slut. You’re my bimbo slut.”
“Yes, I’m your bimbo slut,” she said hypnotically.
“Your beautiful body is for my pleasure.” I ran my hands over her body.
“Yes, my beautiful body is for your pleasure.” She ran her hands over her own body, discovering for the first time in her life the sensual pleasure in her body’s beauty.
“You will want to give me pleasure any way you can.”
“Yes, I want to give you pleasure any way I can.”
“Your warm, wet mouth is for my pleasure.” I kissed her deeply. I broke the kiss.
“Yes, my warm, wet, sensual mouth is for your pleasure.”
“Your sweet pretty pussy is for my pleasure.” My hand slipped down between her legs. I dipped my finger into her slit.
“Yes, my sweet pretty pussy is for your pleasure,” she gasped.
I spun her around, my hand on her buttocks, my finger exploring her crack. I whispered in her ear, “Your tight little butt-hole is for my pleasure.”
“Yes, my tight little butt-hole is for your pleasure.” She arched her back and moved her butt to my now hard, erect cock.
“Go get some vaseline for my cock.” She immediately went to her medicine cabinet and found some. She dropped to her knees and started sucking my cock. As he did so she looked up at me with those pretty, vacuous blue eyes. She sucked and licked until I was on the verge of cumming in her mouth. She then slathered my cock with vaseline, getting in delicious tugs as she did so.
I pulled her to her feet, and turned her around. With her back to me, I squeezed her full breasts, bent her forward, as my cock nestled between her round ass cheeks. I kissed the nape of her neck, feeling the silky swish of her hair. She was pinned under me, face down, her ass begging for my cock.
I mounted her. She was so tight. Virgin ass, but my greasy cock penetrated. I fingered her clit as I pounded her ass. Tears ran down her face, but she was also feeling the pleasure through her pain. We came simultaneously.
Afterwards, we took a leisurely shower where we explored each others’ bodies with wonder and sensuality if not over sexuality. We dried each other off. I went to explore her clothes. They were doughty, ugly, colorless.
“We are going to have to buy you a whole new wardrobe,” I said.
“Oh, yes, please, I can’t wear those horrible things anymore.”
“I will put you in thongs.”
“Oh, yes, please.”
“And skin tight, spandex mini skirts.”
“Ummmm.”
“Silk stockings and high heels.”
“Ooooooh, yes.”
“We’ll have you looking like a proper slut.”
“I can’t wait.”
I found a button down blouse and didn’t button the first five buttons, exposing her magnificent cleavage. “This will have to do for now until we get you to the store.”
I reached over to her desk, which held a pile of math books. I opened one up for her to look at.
“All those numbers. I…don’t…know…what….they…mean. Oh, my God. I used to know, but now they are just numbers on a page. I have no idea.” She put her head in her hands, and started to cry. “What’s happened to me. I…I…I… don’t understand. I was smart.”
“That life is over. Your old life repressed carnal pleasure. Now your intellect will no longer stand in the way of your sensual fulfillment.”
I wiped the tears from her face and held her head in my hands.
Edith was my first. I was tentative with her, still not understanding this strange power I had and was conflicted over it. But I grew into my role of pimp just as Edith–and those who followed her–grew into her role as bimbo slut. I renamed her Eden. I trashed all of her math books, burned her conservative, dumpy clothes and bought her tight spandex mini dresses, thongs, high heels as well as eye shadow, mascara, false eyelashes, lipstick, rouge. My investment was soon repaid many times over as Eden got a job in a titty bar and began turning tricks. Even though she ended up fucking many other men because she had an insatiable appetite for sex, I always had a special hold over her and was able to bend her will to mine simply by being in physical contact with her.
Physical contact was how I explored my power. I tried bumping into beautiful women to see if I had power over them. But nothing. I found homely women who were also stupid. Again, no go. The only spark was when I managed to touch a young woman who was both really ugly and exceptionally intelligent. By trial and error that involved a lot of apparent clumsiness on my part, bumping into women on the subway or at the supermarket I mostly discovered all the women I had no affect on whatsoever.
I was beginning to think that I just had a special power over one person–Edith/Eden. But then it happened again. The next bimbo-to-be was a mid-20s Harvard-educated law clerk for a federal judge. Ironically, I was in court because Edith’s associates and family had taken legal action against me for having transformed Edith into Eden. But what could they do really? I hadn’t kidnapped her, and no one, including me, could explain her transformation or prove that I had caused it. I suppose you could call it “identity theft,” but it couldn’t hold up in a court of law.
But what I discovered that did hold up in a court of law was my unique super power.
I had almost given up thinking that I had any power over women other than Edith/Eden, but there was something about Margaret that reminded me of Edith. She had that same mousy, repressed look, but I could see that she had a brilliant mind. I accidently-on-purpose found an excuse to touch her hand when I was handing her one of the legal documents I had to sign. The electric spark was there, including her shocked reaction and my surge of power.
Once, I could tell Margaret was someone I would have power over, I took her by the arm and she nearly passed out. I said, we need to go somewhere private. She didn’t know me at all, but said, “Yes, we do.”
I stayed in physical contact with her, as we left the courthouse where she worked and hailed a taxi. Once in the backseat of the cab, I kissed her. She melted. I slipped my hand under her shirt. She moaned. I looked at her and could already see changes taking place in her face.
“Oh, yes, here we go again,” I thought.
Yes, Margaret, who I renamed Margarita, quickly became the second in my stock of bimbo sluts. She went from being a legal genius homely prude to being a dumb nympho Barbie Doll slut. Once I knew what to look for, I kept adding to my collection. It turned out to be a pretty great super power after all.